


All Things Strange and Wondrous

by Cinaed



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Canon Era, Face Squirrels, Gen, Libraries, Madeleine Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 22:30:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2042715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinaed/pseuds/Cinaed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Over the years, Madeleine has become not only the mayor but also a self-styled librarian. Then one evening Javert comes to him for assistance in locating a particular book.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Things Strange and Wondrous

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts), [tvglow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tvglow/gifts).



> This is entirely jam's fault for asking me for a library/merfolk AU, and breadsports for drawing unusual face squirrels, found [here](http://breadsports.tumblr.com/post/92378271065).

"Monsieur le maire."

Madeleine has just offered his last coin to one of the children crowded eagerly around him when the harsh voice hails him. He straightens. “Well, I am certain your mothers are expecting you for supper,” he says, offering the children a small smile and tucking away his now empty-purse.

They take it as the dismissal it is, scattering in all directions, their laughter and high, lilting voices filling the air. He watches them go, knowing that some of them have no mothers waiting, knowing that some will have no supper. Pity weighs down his smile until it becomes a frown. He turns. 

"Monsieur le maire," Javert says again. He bows, a stiff, awkward movement.

Madeleine is struck and a little unsettled by Javert’s appearance. He has grown used to the inspector’s immaculate state, his buttons always polished, his shoes always shining. Moreover, he has grown accustomed to Javert’s face being half-hidden from view, concealed by his hat, his high collar, and his squirrels. Today both Javert’s head and cheeks are bare, the skin upon his jaw paler than the rest of his face. Madeleine’s gaze lingers on the latter; he wonders at the absence of the inspector’s partners. Without his expression obscured by his squirrels and hat, Javert’s face is queerly open. While there is the ever-present cool deference in his look, today anxiety furrows his brow. Madeleine wonders at the tension in his face even as Javert cradles his hat under his arm and frowns.  

Madeleine summons a polite smile. “Yes, inspector? Is something the matter?”

"Yes. Perhaps. It may be nothing, however," says Javert, and stops. His thin lips draw back in a grimace. His gaze lowers. If Madeleine did not know better, he would swear there is a hint of color in the other man’s face. Javert says, so abruptly that it sounds like an accusation though he surely does not intend it as such, "Your library is extensive, monsieur."

Madeleine blinks at the non sequitur. It is true that over the past few years he has built a substantial library. It is equally true he has impressed upon the townsfolk that the library is available for anyone who pleases, as the schools are open to any who wish to learn, and the factory for any who wish to work.

Before Madeleine can remind him that anyone is welcome to borrow a book, Javert continues. “I have been to the bookshop here, and Monsieur Marcel directed me to you, monsieur. He said you have the book I need. I would not presume, except that it is a matter of some personal urgency, and I—” 

"Javert," Madeleine says. "The library is open to all." His words do not lessen the anxiety in Javert’s face. He gropes for reassuring words, but he is too puzzled by Javert’s unwonted agitation and queer dishevelment to do more than add, "I only hope I have the book you need."

Javert grimaces. He passes a hand over his jaw, his fingers stuttering over the bare skin as though startled to not touch fur. His gaze dips once more, and he seems to be speaking more to his hat than to Madeleine as he says, “It is a very particular book, monsieur. There are very few copies, or else I would— well. You own it, if Monsieur Marcel is to be believed.  _Sanitatem et Salutem Sciuri.”_

Madeleine repeats the title thoughtfully. When he first began to build his library, he had bought any book in Ancient Greek or Latin, thinking he would look more like a learned man that way. Since then he has taught himself a little Latin and Greek, but not much, and most of his collection is in French, for the benefit of the townsfolk. He cannot think what the title means, except perhaps something about health; it offers him no insight into Javert’s obvious anxiety. Surely if Javert were ill he would go to a doctor or surgeon. “It may be so that I own the book. Monsieur Marcel keeps careful records. You are of course welcome to borrow the library’s copy.”

Some of the tension leaves Javert’s face, replaced by relief. “Thank you, monsieur.” He bows again, stiffly and carefully.

This time Madeleine hears it as Javert straightens: quiet sounds from the inspector’s hat. He frowns, a sudden thought striking him. “Javert, are your partners ill?”

Javert’s grim expression is answer enough even before Javert says, “Yes, monsieur. I have been to the town doctor, I have written to Paris, but no one seems to know—” He grimaces. “Well. I thought perhaps the book might have some idea of what might be the matter.”

Madeleine’s gaze lowers to the hat, tucked so carefully against Javert’s side. He is uncertain what to say; Javert does not seem a man who would welcome platitudes or well wishes for the squirrels’ recovery. He clears his throat. “Come. Let us go to the library.” 

"Monsieur le maire," Javert says. It is a weak protest. His expression tightens, a flicker of some inward struggle passing over his features. There is another weak sound from the hat. Javert bows his head. "I would appreciate your assistance, monsieur." 

 

* * *

 

 

The evening comes upon them faster than Madeleine expects. By the time they have reached the library, he must light a lamp. It casts dancing shadows on the bookshelves, catching upon the silver streaks in Javert's hair and turning the room strange.  

"Well," he says, attempting a smile, "I am not certain how it is done in other libraries, but I keep all the Latin and Ancient Greek in one section. Your book will be there, I suspect."

Javert turns away and sets the hat carefully upon the table. When he straightens, his mouth is set in a grim, unsmiling line and there's something almost desperate in his eyes. "Thank you, monsieur," he says again. "Where...?" When Madeleine points, Javert strides over to the bookshelves; his hands flutter a little at his sides, almost as though he is repressing the urge to clasp his hands behind his back. 

Madeleine watches him for a moment, and then steps to the table. He bends carefully over the hat and peers in. Something tightens in his chest. He understands now Javert's concern, for the squirrels look nothing like the strong, healthy creatures they had been only a fortnight previously, leaping from Javert's shoulder to the back of a dog about to bite a child, distracting the dog until it could be controlled by its owner and the child snatched out of its reach. Now their fur is matted and thin, their breathing labored, their eyes dull as they stare at him. "How long have they been like this?"

"Over a week," comes the grim answer. "They suddenly seemed to lose their appetite and energy. They refused even almonds, an indulgence I allow them when they have performed admirably."

Madeleine reaches out and touches the closest squirrel's head, gently. It barely twitches at the unfamiliar touch, only lets out a low squeak of protest. "They are too weak to even clean themselves," he murmurs. He does not intend it as a question, but apparently his voice carries across the room, for Javert says, darkly, "Yes." 

"Perhaps a bath will help," Madeleine suggests.

Javert barks out a laugh, though there's no humor in the harsh sound. "If you wish to try, monsieur, you will want to keep your gloves on. The last time they fell into a mud puddle, I attempted to give them a bath. They lost their heads completely and nearly bit me."

Madeleine privately thinks they look too weak to move, much less attack him, but he does not remove his gloves as he fetches a basin and fills it with water from the pump outside. He is careful to fill the basin just enough that the squirrels will not half-drown themselves if they do struggle at the feel of water. All the while Javert prowls along the bookshelves, peering at the titles.

The first squirrel feels nearly weightless in his hands as Madeleine lifts it from the hat. It barely struggles, blinking dulled eyes at him as it makes a protesting noise. "It will be all right," he tells it softly. He forces good humor into his voice, as he does when he handles the guinea pigs. "A bath shall make you feel better, I hope."

He lowers the squirrel carefully into the basin. The water immediately browns as dirt sloughs from the creature's matted fur, and then, to Madeleine's astonishment, the water seems to glow, first black and then silver, abruptly roiling as though coming to a sudden boil. "What in heaven's--" 

The squirrel makes a loud, almost wailing sound he has never heard before. It wrenches itself from Madeleine's grip, a sudden burst of strength that takes Madeleine by surprise. It disappears beneath the bubbles even as Madeleine gropes after it. His fingers touch water, strangely warm, and then something like scales. 

"Monsieur le maire?"

There is alarm in Javert's voice, but Madeleine doesn't look at him as he snatches his hand from the basin. The squirrel emerges from the still-bubbling water, but although it is two paws that grip the edge of the basin and decidedly a squirrel's face that peers at him and chitters a pleased string of sounds, beneath the water the squirrel has been transformed into what appears to be half-fish.  

Madeleine stares at it, dazed. The mats have gone from the squirrel's fur, what fur not transformed into scales, that is, and its eyes are bright and lively again. "Oh," he says, the sound escaping him like a sigh. 

"Oh," Javert says, sounding equally amazed. "Well." He is suddenly at Madeleine's side, bending low to meet the squirrel's eyes. There is wonder in his face, the sharp lines of his face softened by surprise, and relief, too. "Well," he says again. He fumbles with his gloves. It is with bare fingers that he strokes a cautious hand over the squirrel's fin.

The squirrel squirms happily at the contact, making a half-pleased, half-embarrassed remark at Javert. One corner of Javert's mouth twitches and he remarks dryly, " _Sanitatem et Salutem Sciuri_ speaks on such strange things, monsieur, but even M. Chabouillet thought it mere myth." He pauses and then laughs, a sharp, honest laugh that sounds unnatural. "We shall have to reconsider that."

From the hat, a weak, querulous scolding begins. Javert looks almost abashed. He places the second squirrel in the basin as well, and together he and Madeleine watch as the squirrel is also transformed into a strange fusion of squirrel and fish. 

Madeleine cannot stop staring. He knows his marveling face must seem foolish, but wonder has a hold of him. "I did not know such things were even possible," he says softly.

His quiet remark seems to break the spell the transformations have cast upon Javert. The inspector's face shutters, all wonder concealed behind a stiff, polite mask as he presumably remembers Madeleine's position. Javert bows once more, his hands motionless against his sides. "Thank you, monsieur. I apologize for imposition, but if I might keep them in the water until I have read some of  _Sanitatem et Salutem Sciuri_ and learned more about their, ah, condition..."

"It is no imposition, Javert," Madeleine said hastily. He attempts a smile of reassurance, one that falters at Javert's stern look. It is his turn to feel embarrassed, that he would forget himself so as to want to share in this strange marvel. He drops his gaze to the squirrels, who are swimming in slow, exploratory circles within the basin, squeaking at each other.

Despite Javert's obvious unease, wonder touches Madeleine once more. To think there are such things in the world. He touches the side of the basin, and smiles slowly. "In fact, it's my pleasure."  


End file.
